


Like No One Else

by vina_writes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is a Good Boyfriend, Healer Draco Malfoy, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Short & Sweet, Writer Harry Potter, like barely even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23281489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vina_writes/pseuds/vina_writes
Summary: Harry knows exactly what Draco needs after a difficult day at work.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 173





	Like No One Else

Harry had read it in the Prophet, of all things, before Hermione even thought to owl him. He hated seeing mentions of himself or people he loved in the paper under almost any circumstance, but for once Harry felt grateful that Draco was subscribed to the rag— he wasn’t sure how long it would have taken the news to reach him otherwise. 

The owl came sharp at eight in the morning, pecking insistently at the glass until Harry let it into the kitchen with a sigh. His mouth still felt fuzzy with sleep and he was barely dressed, but his mind sharpened the moment he caught sight of the blaring headline: _Department of Mysteries Suffers Catastrophic Collapse— St. Mungo’s Overwhelmed by Casualties_. The article was accompanied by a couple shots of emergency response healers rushing around stretchers, the photos hazy with smoke and dust. 

Harry frowned, then sighed again, then shook his head and calmly paid the impatient owl. He took a sip of his coffee, then drained the cup. With one final look over the article, he set his cup in the sink and set off to find some trousers and his keys. 

* * *

The apartment he shared with Draco was by no means large, but it was both airy and cosy nonetheless. Harry filled it with books and Draco filled it with plants, and between them they’d painted every wall a different shade of pale yellow, green, and grey. They had more throw blankets and cushions than Draco insisted anyone had any right owning, but his hair and face products filled every shelf in the bathroom so Harry thought he really had no right to complain. Harry’s photos were on the mantle and Draco’s silk shirts always ended up hanging over every door in the house— “You can’t put silk in the _dryer_ , you cretin!”— and somehow, among all the chaos it was _theirs_. A safe haven away from their friends and family, the sort of home Harry never imagined for himself but something he would never trade now that he’d found it. 

Harry wondered if Draco was right about the throws as he Levitated yet another one off the floor to vacuum, however. He’d already done the kitchen, the study, the bathroom, and their bedroom, and only the brief touchups in the living room were left. Draco’s laundry was in the wash— colors separate, fabrics sorted, temperature adjusted, etc., etc.— and he’d already filled the fridge with everything from ice cream to curry. 

He didn’t let himself worry. Draco was stronger than anyone had ever given him credit for, and Harry had no doubt that he’d face the situation with unwavering skill and professionalism. He always did. Draco loved his job, and Harry loved that Draco loved it, and that was that. But there were always days— days when Draco would inevitably blame himself if the time ran out, days when the rush of patients was just one too many. 

Harry heard the rush of the floo just as he set the final flower in the vase on the counter. The clock only read 5:43, but he realized he didn’t quite remember what time Draco’s shift had started that morning. Harry set the timer on the kettle with a careless flick of his wand as he followed the silence back into the living room. 

Draco hadn’t even changed out of his healer’s robes, the green fabric singed and stained in places. His hair hung limp around his face and circles were already forming under his eyes. He stood quietly in the center of the room, his face blank. 

“Hey, love,” Harry smiled. “How was work?”

It took Draco a moment to respond. His eyes landed on Harry slowly, glassier than he would have liked. 

“You cleaned?” He said thickly. 

“Yeah, and got that tart you love from Diagon, and narcissus flowers for you.” Harry stepped up to him and took his hands gently, pressing the cold fingers between his own. “The bath’s set on Stasis with lavender oil, and I’ve packed food so we can go for a picnic in Wiltshire tomorrow and see your mother.” 

Draco’s face crumbled, and for a moment Harry felt his stomach drop in disappointment. Then Draco slipped his arms around Harry’s shoulders and pulled him close, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Harry breathed in the soft scent of his hair, holding him tight as he leaned his weight on him. 

“Work was shit,” Draco finally managed in a wobbling voice. “But I really fucking love you.”


End file.
